Hardcastle, Beale & McCormick
by Voyager Tip
Summary: What if J.J. Beale had stayed with Hardcastle and was living in the Gatehouse when Mark arrived? How would Mark compare to Beale (the genius) and how would he cope with living in the gardener's trailer? How would he win over Sarah and the judge? This AU story shows how closed off the judge's feelings were. Starts right after Rolling Thunder and ends with Mark in the ER... as usual.
1. Arrival

Ch1 Arrival

Mark McCormick pulled the Coyote into the driveway at Gulls Way and shut off the engine. He'd gotten to John Dalem's office at 5:30 pm, a full half hour late, despite the speeds he could get out of the Coyote on the open road. He'd considered not stopping at his POs office, but, he'd told Hardcastle that he would, so, even though he didn't believe there was any hope, he had trudged inside to see if Dalem was still there.

The outer office had been empty, so when he knocked on Dalem's door, he was surprised that Dalem opened it. The expression on Dalem's face was priceless. He'd looked truly stunned. Mark was glad he'd shown up just to see that expression. But what happened next, was incredible. Dalem had checked him in, then let him go. Without a question or even one word except hello and goodbye. McCormick couldn't be sure, but he thought that the judge must have called him and asked him to overlook any lateness. Dalem had never liked McCormick, and had probably been sure he wouldn't show up at all.

Mark sighed and climbed out of the Coyote. He was starving, and hoped he'd be able to find something to eat in the kitchen, so he started walking to the main house. One thing was for sure, he wanted to spend as little time in the gardener's trailer as possible. Sarah opened the door as he approached.

"I saved supper for you, I'll heat it up," she said in her usual efficient tone. Mark smiled, "Thanks Sarah, I'm starving." She pointed at the sink and he washed his hands obediently, then sat down. "So, were you successful?" Sarah asked while she worked.

She already knows, I bet Hardcastle called her too, he thought to himself. "Yeah, we nailed him."

"Good for you," she said as she put a plate of food in front of him, and her voice had a kinder tone to it.

"Thanks." The meal was one of the best he'd eaten in a long time. "Sarah, this is great," he said as he dug in enthusiastically.

"It's just meatloaf," she said in surprise.

"It seems great to me. I haven't had a home-cooked meal like this in" he paused uncertainly, "I guess I can't remember when." She narrowed her eyes and looked away for a second.

"Well, if you're staying, you'll get used to it." She thought of JJ Beale, the other resident ex -con, who was living in the Gatehouse. He'd thanked her often for the meals in the beginning, but, never with quite as much sincerity. And once he'd figured out that the meals came with living at the estate, he'd stopped thanking her, or making any sort of small talk at all. He would talk to His Honor about anything, but he hadn't said an unnecessary sentence to Sarah in several weeks now.

Mark finished the meal and carried his dishes to the sink and turned on the water.

"I'll wash them, you don't have to," Sarah began.

"You made the meal, it's only fair that I wash these few," Mark told her and kept at the task until everything was drying on the dish rack. Anything was better than going back to the gardener's trailer.

Sarah watched him, in shock, trying to figure out why he would do that. She decided to take the direct approach. "If you think the judge will go easy on you because you do your own dishes, or help out in the kitchen, you are sorely mistaken," she said in a harsh tone.

Mark was at a loss for words, he held up both hands, palms out, "hey, I just thought the dishes needed to get done," he said in a harsh tone of his own.

Silence.

"Look, it's been a long two days, I'll just go to bed," he said, getting control of his temper, then turned to leave.

Sarah watched him go. She thought that just maybe, she had overreacted. There had been so many ex-cons at the estate during the past 10 years and though most of them hadn't fooled her, there had been a few that she had allowed herself to like, only to find out that their actions and fine attitudes were all just a big scam. Even the ex-cons who had worked out, who had kept their noses clean and then moved on, hadn't been anything special in her mind. Still, there really was no cause to speak to this new one that way just because he washed his dishes. She sighed, it didn't really matter, he'd probably be gone soon anyway.

Mark walked to the gardener's trailer and reluctantly went inside. He stood in the center of the small house trailer and glanced around. It was nice, as trailers went, but there was something about the closeness of everything and the smallness of the windows, that reminded him of prison and just like on his first night here, he found that he didn't want to sleep inside.


	2. Night

Ch 2 At Night

Fifteen minutes later, McCormick had a sleeping bag from the garage under his arm, and was spreading it out on the lawn in front of the trailer. He tossed his sweatshirt and jeans into the trailer and put his sneakers close by before he climbed in and promptly fell asleep.

Hardcastle pulled into the driveway at midnight and smiled when he saw the Coyote parked right where it should have been. Maybe this one would work out better than Beale. He couldn't quite put his finger on the problem with Beale, it was just a vague feeling that the ex-con didn't really care about anything. On the surface he was nice enough, and his manners were excellent, but his work had been mediocre at best, and though his words were sincere, his tone and body language didn't always support the sincerity.

H&M

McCormick jerked awake when the pounding began.

"I don't believe him," he whispered as he glanced at his watch. It was 1 am.

He got up, convinced that the only thing that would get him some sleep, was if Hardcastle got the basketball out of his system.

H&M

In the gatehouse, J J Beale awoke with the first bounce and immediately rolled over onto his side to reach for the cup beside the bed.. He'd forgotten to put in his ear plugs, and quickly rectified that with a whispered swear. Then he pulled the blanket and pillow over his head and tried his best to ignore the sounds on the basketball court outside his window.

H&M

McCormick approached the court and spoke. "Do you have to do this?" he asked plaintively.

"Yes."

Mark sighed and shook his head, then grinned resignedly.

"Okay, I've got a challenge for you."

"What?"

"One game, 21 points, I put up $20, you put up a room in the Hardcastle Hilton."

"Will ya just say what you mean McCormick?"

"If I win, I get to sleep in the main house for one night."

Hardcastle stared at him, weighing this offer. Trying to decide if such a deal might be dangerous.

"Why?" was the only comment he gave.

McCormick shrugged, "just want to see how the other half lives," he answered flippantly.

"No way." was the answer.

Though McCormick was disappointed, he covered it smoothly, and without missing a beat, he replied, "okay, we go for $20 then… your ball," and he threw it quite hard at the judge.

As they played, McCormick decided that he'd been too quick to make that particular wager. Even though they'd brought Martin Cody to justice, Hardcastle barely knew him. He should have figured he'd never agree to having Mark sleep inside, especially so soon. The problem was, they were expecting rain tomorrow night and Mark was trying to come to grips with sleeping in the trailer.

The game was fast and exhilarating. McCormick won by one point, and both of them were smiling when they parted.


	3. Chores

Ch 3 Chores

Mark had barely gotten to meet Beale before they left for Las Vegas, so the next morning, he was happy to see him at the breakfast table with Hardcastle. He wanted to meet the other ex con at the estate.

"It's about time you showed up," Hardcastle said as Mark entered the kitchen and sat down.

J.J. snickered.

"Don't you start Beale, I looked at the job you did on the lawn while we were gone and it looks like a 6 year old did it.

"I'm sorry judge," Beale began, "I'll try harder next time."

"You've been here for 3 months Beale, and next time hasn't come yet."

Hardcastle paused, "McCormick, you're in charge of the lawn from now on. I've got some mulch coming today, Beale, that's your project for today and tomorrow."

"Okay judge," Beale said and headed out the back door.

"You have a lawn mower?" Mark asked uncertainly.

"Come on, I'll show you where the tools are."

H&M

The day was long and dull. After Hardcastle showed him the tools in the garage, McCormick got to work, but since he had never mown a lawn before, it took him awhile to get the machine started. Then, it stalled several times during the mowing and refused to restart until the motor cooled down. Hardcastle had been on the phone most of the morning, and noticed Sarah looking out the window as he walked into the kitchen.

"How are they doing?" he asked, interested in her feedback.

"Humph!" she grunted. "Beale is moving like molasses… no surprise there. It'll be winter before he gets that mulch spread."

"Yeah, I figured that."

"And the other one, honestly Your Honor, it looks like he's never pushed a lawn mower before."

"He complains a lot too," Hardcastle groused, "at least Beale doesn't complain."

"Oh, he's real agreeable," Sarah spit out, "he just doesn't do what he's agreed to do, that's all."

"Well, help me keep an eye on them."

H&M

Mark McCormick pushed the lawnmower back and forth across the lawn. He'd realized shortly after beginning that this was just a motor, and even though he'd never used a lawn mower before, he knew engines and motors inside and out, and would be able to deal with this one. After the first hour, he felt he understood how this engine worked, and what it needed. He turned off the motor and headed for the garage.

Milt Hardcastle noticed the silence and knew it was too soon for the ex con to be finished, so he headed out to the back lawn to let McCormick know that laziness wouldn't be tolerated. His jaw dropped as he rounded the corner of the house and saw McCormick relaxing beside the mower in the shade, the cover hinged up, a magazine in his hand and a tube of grease beside him.

"I thought you were supposed to be mowing the lawn McCormick?" he growled.

"This mower's running so hot, I can't believe it hasn't seized up yet. You've gotta take care of your equipment if you want it to last Hardcastle," McCormick lectured, effectively turning the tables on the judge.

"What do you mean?"

"Friction judge, friction! There's no grease on this at all. Every moving part is half destroyed from the heat."

Silence.

"So why aren't you greasing it then?" Hardcastle asked.

"It'll be cool enough to grease in a few minutes," McCormick answered, not making any excuses for the magazine he held in his hands. "This motor is a workhorse judge, I put one just like it on a Go-Kart when I was a kid. If you take care of it, it'll last longer than you will."

"Humph," Hardcastle grunted and peered over the hinged up cover into the engine. He had to admit that it did look dry in there, and the heat pouring off of it was very real, even though it had only been running for a short while. He wondered why Beale hadn't mentioned the overheating. _"Because Beale would be glad if the mower seized up and he didn't have to do the lawn,"_ he thought to himself.

He glanced at McCormick with a new appreciation. This was a switch, an ex-con who was willing to get his hands dirty to do a good job on the chores. Well, he couldn't let the kid think he was impressed, that was for sure. "What kind of a pattern do you call this McCormick?" he complained instead.

"Huh?"

"What you've done so far, you've missed a few spots, can't you see how uneven it looks?" Mark stood up and looked where the judge was pointing. He had missed some grass because he hadn't overlapped the rows enough.

"I'll fix it," he said quickly.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you how to mow a lawn?" the judge asked harshly. It was good to keep putting the ex-cons down, made it much less likely that they would take advantage of you. But as he watched McCormick's expression quickly change from embarrassment to resignation, he regretted his callous tone.

"Actually no, but I'm a quick study. Just criticize me and I'll improve judge," he said smoothly, covering his anger and embarrassment with a smile.

The judge paused, wondering how a kid could grow up not knowing how to mow a lawn. "I'm sure you will," he finally said, then turned to leave.


	4. The Rainy Night Problem

Ch 4 The Rainy Night

Mark finished the lawn and put the mower away, then wandered to the far side of the house, past the gardener's trailer, to Beale and the pile of mulch. It didn't look like much had been accomplished during the day.

"How ya doin?" he asked.

Beale looked up at him and shrugged, "how bout you?"

Mark shrugged too. It didn't look like any conversation was going to take place, and Mark was about to leave when Beale finally spoke.

"So, what happened in Vegas?" he asked.

Mark sighed, "we ran a scam and caught Cody, he's going to jail for a long time."

"I meant, how was the old man?"

"Well, don't let him hear you callin him old," Mark began. "He was okay," he paused, "better than okay...decent, why?"

Beale leaned on his shovel, "now that you caught Cody, how much longer are you planning on staying?"

Mark shrugged, "I said I'd stay and help with his cases, so...a while anyway, why?"

"If I take off, do you want in?"

Mark paused, unsure of what to say, then shook his head, "no man, I'm lookin at hard time if I split, I'm gonna give it a go here."

Beale shook his head, "he treats us like dirt. I'm made for better things than shoveling mulch."

"At least you get to live in that nice house," Mark said quietly. In the back of his mind he'd thought that he might be able to get J.J. to let him stay in the Gatehouse too, but after this exchange, he had a bad feeling about this ex con. And he had the distinct impression that Beale wouldn't want a roommate. He'd just have to keep trying to cope with the gardener's trailer for a bit longer.

"Yeah, how do you like the gardener's trailer anyway?" Beale jeered.

"It's better than prison," McCormick murmurred.

H&M

Supper was a quiet affair, so Mark was surprised when Hardcastle asked both him and Beale if they wanted to watch some TV. J.J. declined and headed out the back door, but McCormick decided that anything was better than the gardener's trailer. He accepted as Sarah shook her head in disapproval.

The movie was old, just like the old donkey, but Mark still managed to enjoy it. His comments on a few scenes caused Hardcastle to smile, but the judge was careful not to let the ex con know that. At 11:30, he opened the front door to leave and as he jogged back to the gardener's trailer, the rain began in earnest.

He washed up in the small, prison like bathroom and decided to put the plan he had formulated earlier in the day into action.


	5. More Chores

Ch 5 More Chores

Hardcastle slept well and rose as usual at 6:30am to shoot some early baskets.

Thud, thud, ka-thunk.

Mark opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of the garage. The bed of the truck had been a lot harder than the one in the trailer, but he was still glad he had settled here. Unfortunately, now he had a ringside seat to the thud, thud, thudding of basketball against concrete and backboard. He jumped out of the truck and headed to the court.

"Ready to get beaten?" he challenged the judge as he came up behind him.

"You must sleep really light to hear this all the way from the trailer," Hardcastle observed.

"Donkey's braying always gets to me, doesn't matter how far away it is," Mark shot back and grabbed the ball.

The game was rough and exhilarating, and both men were smiling by the time they were done. They'd passed the same $20 bill back and forth several times now.

H&M

Over breakfast, the chores were assigned again.

"Beale, you'll keep spreading that mulch until it's finished," Hardcastle told his first ex con.

"Yes sir," answered Beale.

"McCormick, the hedges need to be trimmed."

"But there must be 6 miles of hedges on this estate!" Mark complained.

"You can start with the ones in front, nearest the driveway. They're seen by everyone who drives in."

"That'll take me forever judge," Mark whined.

"It better not, I have more work for you tomorrow," Hardcastle answered as he rose and left the room.

"Oh brother," McCormick whispered under his breath as he also rose and walked to the door.

Sarah continued to sit quietly, contemplating the 3 men. She would be keeping her eyes on them all, Beale and McCormick to be sure they did their work and His Honor to be sure the ex-cons didn't take advantage of him.

H&M

"The lawn looks good," Hardcastle observed to Sarah as they sat on the patio later that morning.

"It took him long enough," she answered.

"He stopped in the middle and greased the entire mower, it was running so hot, he probably got to it just in time. If it had seized, I would've had to buy a new one."

"I guess that was good," Sarah admitted.

"Good ole J.J. has been using that mower for 3 months and never said a word," the judge commented.

"Maybe he doesn't know about things like that," Sarah replied.

"Geniuses should know things like that Sarah. If I didn't know better, I'd think you prefer Beale to McCormick. Is that true?"

"Well, we've known Beale longer, and that has to count for something, but don't think for a minute that I like either of them. I'm just trying to make sure you don't get yourself killed Your Honor."

"Oh Sarah, neither of them is a killer," Hardcastle chastised her.

_"Or hurt,"_ Sarah thought to herself, but she couldn't voice that thought out loud.


	6. The Plan

Ch 6 The Plan

"It's got to be today Johnny, I'm telling you I can't stand much more of this. I know where the safe is and I can get him to open it, don't worry."

Beale paused, listening to the voice at the other end of the line.

"I'm sure there's enough to get us to the border," he paused, "no, he's no threat, he doesn't want to come with us, but he's not on Hardcastle's side either. When it goes down, he'll be near the road and pretend not to hear."

He listened again, "okay, 10 am, the gate'll be open."

He hung up the receiver and reached into a drawer beside the couch and removed a gun.

Then he stuck it under his belt in the back and headed out to the pile of mulch.

H&M

Mark McCormick glanced at J.J. as he walked toward the main gate carrying the hedge clippers.

"Hey, Mark, I wanna talk to Hardcastle this morning, can you make yourself scarce until lunch? I'd appreciate it." he said.

"Sure," Mark answered, but something about the man's appearance bothered him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he also couldn't afford to waste time when he had so much work to do. He continued walking down the driveway so he could get started. As he approached the end of the driveway, he heard a click and noticed the gate unlatch and swing a couple of inches inward.

He shook his head in disbelief. To have all that security and not use it seemed stupid. He'd just assumed that Hardcastle would be a stickler for keeping the gate locked. He sighed, well, the old donkey could do what he wanted, it was his house. Reluctantly he started to work on the hedges.

H&M

J.J. Beale entered the main house without knocking.

"Well, this is cozy," he announced when he saw both Sarah and the judge in the den. He pulled his pistol out and pointed it at Sarah as Hardcastle started to move toward his desk drawer.

"I wouldn't touch anything judge."

Hardcastle froze, his heart sinking.

"Down on the couch, both of you," Beale ordered.

"Shame on you!" Sarah chastised him as she sat down. "You were given this wonderful chance and you've just thrown it all away."

"Hah! Thrown away the chance to shovel mulch? Thanks but no thanks. Hardcastle, open the safe," he waved the gun in the direction of the picture on the wall. He'd seen Hardcastle closing it last week.

"What makes you think there's a safe there?" the judge asked.

Beale pointed the gun at Sarah, "don't make me mad judge, just open it."

Hardcastle sighed and went over to the safe and began to dial in the numbers.

They heard the front door open and Beale smiled.


	7. Rescue

Ch 7 Rescue

McCormick was working on the hedges halfway up the driveway when the black chevy pulled in. He frowned when he noticed the very dark tint of the windows, it just didn't look like the kind of a car that a friend of Hardcastles would drive. He followed the vehicle curiously, walking behind the hedges that lined the driveway, as it made its way slowly toward the house. He watched the man get out and scan the area, seeing him and staring.

"Hey," Mark called out in a friendly tone as the man leveled a gun in his direction.

Suddenly everything fell into place. Beale's shirt had been bulged out in the back, that's what had been out of place, he'd had something behind his back, probably a gun. He'd unlocked the gate. That was the reason Beale had asked him to stay away until lunch. Suddenly McCormick knew that Beale was inside with the judge as his prisoner, and this man was his accomplice.

"You the other con?" Johnny Barton asked, keeping the gun pointed at McCormick.

Mark smiled, "yeah, you're gonna get Hardcastle, aren't ya?" It was hard to hide the look of pleasure that passed over his face. At least that was the appearance he was hoping for.

Johnny smiled and lowered the weapon, "Gonna take as much as we can get," he said.

"The back door's always unlocked…" McCormick began in a conspiratorial tone, then quickly lunged for the hood and got two quick punches in before the man knew what hit him. He kicked the gun into the bushes and pulled the man to his feet and popped the trunk. After disposing of the accomplice, he ran to use the Gatehouse phone.

H&M

"Hey J.J., it's me," McCormick's voice filled the room as the front door opened.

"I told you to stay away."

"I know, but I figured out what you were really doing and decided I want in after all," McCormick said as he slouched in and scanned the room. "Besides, you can't do this alone, how're ya gonna tie them up by yourself?"

"I have help coming." Beale glanced nervously at the clock, it was 10:15 am, "he should be here by now."

"Well, if you want help, I'm here now."

Beale smiled, "I put some rope by the front door."

Mark got up and retrieved the rope, then started for Hardcastle.

"So, your word doesn't mean anything after all," the judge said as Mark approached.

Suddenly, Mark lunged sideways into Beale and they both crashed to the floor struggling for the gun he held. The judge grabbed for his desk drawer and lifted his own gun. He rushed toward the fighting men as Beale's gun went off.

"Freeze," he yelled as he placed the muzzle of his gun to Beale's temple. Immediately the struggle stopped. "Get up," Hardcastle ordered.

Beale obeyed as the house was suddenly flooded with police. He relinquished his prisoner and turned to Sarah.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yes, but Mark doesn't look too good Your Honor," she answered.

Hardcastle holstered the gun and knelt beside McCormick. He had his right hand over a large bloodstain on his left sleeve, a stain that was getting bigger rapidly.

The judge grabbed the rope and wrapped it around Mark's arm as a tourniquet. The bleeding was like an oil gusher he'd seen in Texas.

"Why'd'ya pull a damn fool stunt like that?" he scolded. He paused then, feeling guilty for yelling at the kid when he looked so pale. He was sweating too, and though his eyes were open, Milt wasn't sure he was actually still conscious.

"We need an ambulance," Sarah announced.

"There's one on the way," an officer answered.

"Judge?" Mark's voice was much too soft for anyone but Hardcastle to hear it, but he'd been focusing on the kid.

"Yeah?"

"There's one in the trunk."

"One what kiddo?"

"A bad guy."

Hardcastle glanced at one of the officers, "is there a car around here? His partner might be in the trunk."

Two officers got up to check.

"And…" McCormick waited until he had the judge's attention.

"And what else?" Hardcastle asked, amused.

"I gave you my word… it does mean something."

The paramedics arrived before Hardcastle could answer, and very quickly they loaded McCormick up and drove away.

Hardcastle straightened up, "how did you know what was going on?" he asked the cop.

"McCormick called, he told us the situation, said he had one guy already, and that he was going in. He said not to come in with lights and sirens because that might panic Beale and he might hurt someone. So we surrounded the house and were assessing the situation when we heard the gun go off."

"Why didn't you tell him not to try this?"

"We did."


	8. Emergency Room

Ch 8 Emergency Room

Mark lay on the stretcher in the ER, his eyes closed, wondering if he had blown his only chance at freedom. The judge pulled the curtain aside and he and Sarah stepped into the small cubicle.

"You awake?" Hardcastle asked softly.

Mark kept his eyes closed, "yeah."

"How're you feeling?"

"Dizzy, tired," was all he had the strength to say.

The judge nodded, "the doc said if you lost one more drop of blood, they'd have to give you a transfusion, it severed your brachial artery."

Mark took a deep breath, his eyes still closed, "I wasn't in on it judge."

"Yeah, I kinda thought that when you tackled J.J. You'd already called the cops, they were on the way, you didn't have to come inside ya know. You already took care of his partner."

"I know," Mark sighed, "but I didn't think Tonto would just wait for the cavalry if the Masked Man was in danger."

Milt shook his head in disbelief and glanced at Sarah, who rolled her eyes. Despite the promise to himself to keep this visit stern and businesslike, he felt his heart soften. This kid could be just as stubborn as he was.

"And Sarah was in there too," Mark continued. "I couldn't risk her being hurt if the cops stormed the place."

There was silence for a heartbeat and Sarah felt her heart soften too. "I've been taking care of myself longer than you've been alive young man!" she said firmly, unwilling to show any emotion toward the ex con.

"What's Sarah doing here judge?" Mark asked, finally opening his eyes.

"Checking on you, that's what," the crusty old lady answered. "You're the one who needs looking after."

"I'm too tired to argue Sarah," Mark answered, giving up and closing his eyes again.

His two visitors sat beside the stretcher then, prepared to wait for the doctors to decide if Mark needed to be admitted.

H&M

Mark was kept overnight in the ER for rest and intravenous fluids. He was discharged the next morning with a sling, two prescriptions and orders to return for a wound check in one week. Sarah hadn't stayed the night, but unbelievable to Mark, Hardcastle had. He had sat stubbornly in the hard plastic chair all night long.

As they pulled up the driveway, Hardcastle spoke. "Well, I guess you'll get your wish."

"What wish is that?" Mark asked.

"You can stay in the main house tonight." Mark glanced at the bright blue sky overhead, "can I take a raincheck on that offer?" he asked.

The judge stared at him, sure he was missing something. "I thought you wanted to stay in the house?"

"I do, but just not tonight," Mark answered.

"You wanna be able to pick the day huh?"

"Yeah."

"Forget it. You're staying in the main house until I say you're not."


	9. In The Main House

Ch 9 In The Main House

Mark smiled briefly, and climbed out of the Vette as Hardcastle walked around and grabbed his good right arm. He walked him into the house and up the stairs to a guest room where the bed had already been turned down.

"This is great," Mark murmured as he eased himself down on the bed and closed his eyes. The walk inside had just about done him in.

"Lift your arm for a second," Hardcastle ordered and Mark realized he had a pillow ready to put under his injured left arm. He couldn't quite believe the old donkey would be treating him so well. "I expect you to lay here and sleep," the judge ordered gruffly, "God knows nobody gets very much sleep in that Emergency Room all night."

When McCormick didn't answer, the judge straightened up and reflected on his hostile tone. He truly didn't know how to talk to this one. McCormick was an enigma. He had a mouth on him that could drive anyone to drink and he complained about everything. He could lie as easily as he breathed. He'd put on a good show for Beale and probably for his partner. Undoubtedly, that was how he'd managed to get the drop on him. It was also one of the reasons why Milt had picked him in the first place. Both Beale and McCormick actually, because they both could scam their way out of just about anything.

So, what was the difference between them? McCormick could've just called the police and not tried to take out the partner. Or, he could have pretended he didn't know what was going on at all. And he absolutely didn't have to enter the house and try to disarm Beale. And why was he concerned about Sarah? As far as the judge knew, Sarah hadn't ever been friendly to him. She had never gotten close to the ex cons he'd brought to the estate. Then there was the fact that he'd wanted the judge to know that his word was good. That he was committed to being Tonto. And despite all the complaining, when he did a job, it was done well.

Hardcastle left the room, determined to figure out what made this ex con tick. "I'm gonna go get his prescriptions filled Sarah," he called to the housekeeper as he walked out the door. He went to the garage and paused while opening the door of the truck. There was a sleeping bag in the bed of the truck. The kid must've put it there. Beale had been in residence for 3 months and had never moved it from its place on the nearby shelf. _Now, why would he do that?_ Milt thought.

Suddenly Hardcastle knew why his early morning basketball had roused the ex con so quickly, he'd been sleeping in the truck. But why?

H&M

Hardcastle stood in the gardener's trailer. It had been a long time since he'd entered the trailer. The sheets Sarah had left on the bed had never been unfolded. It was obvious the bed had never been slept in. He glanced around at the tiny windows and tried to imagine how much like a prison cell it might seem to someone just out of prison. The kid must've slept somewhere else every night since he'd arrived.

"He should've said something," he whispered, but knew at the same time that it wouldn't have mattered. There hadn't been anywhere else. And that's why he had wanted to bet a nights stay in the main house. But, why had he tried to take a raincheck on it this morning?

"I'll never understand that guy," he said to himself. He walked back to the truck, still thinking and drove to the pharmacy. He still didn't know why the kid had wanted to choose which night he'd spend in the main house. It was then that he heard a rumble of thunder in the distance and the last piece fell into place, a real raincheck.


	10. Home

Ch 10 Home

Sarah placed the lunch tray down on the bedside table. She had been checking on the newest ex con every hour and he'd been sleeping soundly since his arrival home early this morning.

"Time for lunch Mark," she said loudly as she placed her hand on his arm. McCormick opened his eyes and glanced around.

"Sarah? Did you say something?" he asked as he rubbed his eyes. She smiled to herself and shook her head. This one was sweet, she would have to watch herself.

"Sit up, it's time for lunch," she answered in a businesslike tone. Mark did as he was told and glanced around, eyeing the tray.

"Is that for me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Of course, who else would it be for?"

"You didn't have to bring it all the way up here. I could've come down to eat."

"First you have to prove you're going to eat, then we can talk about you coming downstairs," she answered. "Your pills are on the tray, I'm going to watch you take one of each."

Mark coughed, "you're kidding, right?"

"No, judge Hardcastle picked them up from the pharmacy and told me to make sure you took them."

Mark took the medicine as instructed, an antibiotic and a pain pill, then turned to pick up the sandwich, "this is great Sarah, thanks." She watched him quietly. Despite the banter, he only ate half a sandwich.

"You have to drink it all too, doctors orders," she reminded him as she pointed to the 2 large glasses of juice beside the tray.

"I'll do it," he answered and slowly finished first one and then the other of the drinks.

"That's better, but I'd be happier if you'd eaten a whole sandwich," she told him.

"Don't tell the judge, I'll do better next time," Mark whispered and lay back down. He struggled to get the pillow positioned again under his left arm. Sarah leaned over him to help pull it into place, then pulled the covers up so his shoulders were covered.

"Thanks Sarah," he whispered and drifted back to sleep. Sarah smiled and picked up the tray as she left the room.

H&M

"Guess what I figured out?" Hardcastle said to Sarah later that day.

"What?"

"McCormick hasn't been sleeping in the gardener's trailer."

She narrowed her eyes, "why in the world not?"

"Not sure yet, he spent one night in back of the truck."

"The truck? That couldn't possibly be comfortable your honor… why would he do that?"

"I don't know for sure, but I'm gonna find out," Hardcastle answered.

H&M

Mark opened his eyes and glanced around the neat room. He was in a guest room in the main house. A real bed felt nice. He glanced at the clock, 4:30 pm, then he got up slowly and located his clothes on a nearby chair and got dressed. He felt much better than he had at lunch. It was time to go down and talk to the judge and try to deflect as much blame from himself as he could. Hardcastle would probably make him leave, but maybe he could convince him not to send him back to prison.

H&M

Milt Hardcastle stared at the pile of mail on his desk. He was trying to concentrate on something other than the ex con currently occupying his guest room. He wasn't having much luck. He looked up at the knock on the door and saw his current project in the doorway.

"Feeling better?" Hardcastle asked, trying to keep his voice businesslike, despite the sudden warmth he felt at seeing McCormick standing up and looking almost normal.

"Yeah, thanks for letting me sleep and getting the medicine."

"Ah, that was nothing, you don't need to thank me for that."

"Well, most people wouldn't do half that for me..."

"You ready to tell me what's goin on?" Hardcastle asked, standing up. The man's color had changed and he started toward him.

"What do you mean?" Mark asked. He could feel himself weakening, and walked unsteadily down the 2 steps into the den, where the judge grabbed his good arm and steered him towards the couch.

"Sit" Hardcastle barked, "you should know better than to be standing around in your condition."

"Didn't know if I'd be welcome to sit," Mark told him when the dizziness stopped.

The judge shook his head, "just be straight with me, where have you been sleeping besides the truck? And why?"

"You're kidding! That's what you want to know? Judge I acted like J.J.'s accomplice, I need you to know that I wasn't. I haven't done anything to break our agreement, so please don't send me back to prison."

"McCormick, you rescued us, how can you possibly think I'd want to send you back to prison?"

"I'm a repeat offender judge, I could get sent back for anything, even just pretending to be on J.J.s side."

"Well, it's not gonna happen now. But I wanna know about your sleeping arrangements… now."

"Supper's ready your honor," Sarah announced from the door of the den. She paused to listen to the explanation.

"Okay, I couldn't sleep in the trailer because it just… made me remember being in prison. So I searched around in the garage and found a sleeping bag and slept on the ground the first few nights. Then, when it rained I slept in back of the truck." He paused, "well, they do call it the bed of the truck, don't they?" he smiled and shrugged.

The judge was smiling on the inside, but spoke in an even tone. "Let me get this straight. You felt like you could take one of my belongings without permission, and enter a vehicle of mine without permission, because the sleeping arrangements I gave you weren't up to your personal standards?"

McCormick swallowed, this was bad. "It wasn't like that at all judge."

"What was it like then?" Hardcastle's tone was gruff, to hide the fact that he was looking forward to what he was sure would be an entertaining explanation.

"Well, I figured since you were letting me use the sheets and blanket, which I didn't need, that you'd be willing to let me use the sleeping bag, which I did need," McCormick explained.

Sarah finally smiled, but inside she was laughing. She had to admit, this ex con was getting to her.

"You figured that, did you?" Hardcastle answered. He kept his face stern, but inside he was very amused. As he looked into the kids eyes though, he realized that what he saw there was fear. The kid honestly believed he might send him back to prison. In his topsy turvy world, people got sent to prison for saving others. It was then that he realized that unlike any of the other ex cons he had tried to work with, he had the power of life and death over this one. McCormick truly didn't want to go back to prison. He truly did intend to keep his word and that would make him an unbeatable Tonto.

"Well, I guess you figured right. I still don't see what's so wrong about the gardener's trailer, but when you're feeling better, we'll move you into the Gatehouse."

Mark's eyes widened, this was unbelievable, "thanks judge."

"If you two are done, supper's ready," Sarah repeated. They made their way to the dining room, and Sarah watched as the judge followed McCormick, staying close enough to catch him if the unsteadiness got any worse. But, he made it to the table, and Sarah was relieved that he seemed to be more alert after he sat down.

"You need to eat more than half a sandwich," Hardcastle lectured.

Sarah paused then, to consider both her behavior and the judges. She hadn't seen him display this much emotion in the past 10 years. This ex con had really gotten to him, and he'd gotten to her as well. She had to admit it. She wondered when she might admit it to him.

"Sarah wasn't supposed to tell," Mark answered as he filled his plate, "anyway, I'm starved."

"That's what you said at lunch," Sarah answered, "now let's see you prove it."

Mark shook his head, feeling like he was in some sort of corny movie. The judge and Sarah didn't talk very nice, but they sure were taking care of him. And now that he was going to be in the Gatehouse, maybe it would start to feel a bit like home.

"Ya still got that $20? The Lakers are playing tonight, since you slept all day, maybe we could watch it," Hardcastle asked as he dug into his meal.

"I'd like that judge...Hey, what're you doing?" Mark asked Sarah loudly as she removed his plate and began to cut up the meat."

"I don't need anybody doing that," Mark yelled.

"Shut up McCormick and let her do it, will ya? Or we'll never hear the end of it."

"All done, don't know why you have to make such a fuss," Sarah said as she placed the plate back in front of Mark. "All you have to do now is eat."

Mark's jaw dropped as he looked at the meat, cut into bite sized pieces. If this was what home was like, it would definitely take some getting used to.

"Thanks Sarah," he mumbled after a long pause.

"Your welcome."

The End


End file.
